


AKA I Love You

by InLust



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, Jessica Jones AU, Mentions of Rape, Mind Control, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, girls supporting girls, if jessica jones had gayer au this would be it, margaery as jessica, sansa as trish, what the heck is a freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a former playgirl turned superhero. When he came into her life, everything she ever worked for was destroyed. Now she's a private investigator, which is fine, if Sansa knew where she was half of the time. And he's back...that's just great.</p><p>the Jessica Jones AU no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. AKA The Alley

**Author's Note:**

> I cave like all the time alright? I've been sitting on this idea for too long and also I got stuck on my You Have My Word series halfway through an update (which i hope to finish soon). 
> 
> Anyways I am reposting the jessica jones au shorts here as part of the series because they connect anyways so it's easier to find. I know it's probably weird to some people for Margaery to be Jessica in this case and there are a lot of characteristic changes but I mean Margaery has always been suspicious about her true intentions about things and i wanted to play off of it if this happened to her and no one really knew/understood it. Of course, all the straight up terrible things have happened to Sansa so that kind of stays canon because I feel like she would take the Trish route and find a way to become stronger and fearless, especially because it involves Margaery. Don't worry I am going to expand on a background that would suit them because Margaery isn't entirely alone like Jessica is, it's more like she's strayed from the path for awhile now and Joffrey's control over her has sort of pushed her to break ties with her family as if she were dead -- more explanation as soon as I figure it out lol AND HEY YOU GET A THIRD CHAPTER WHOOPWHOOP
> 
> This is going to be told from Sansa's perspective mostly by the way

Sansa rolls her neck as she gets out of work. She walks through security and says her goodbyes. Even if she’s tired to the bone, Sansa is determined to get home to make it to her trainer. She rubs her eyes as she walks.

She checks her messages to see if there were any updates from Margaery. Her heart sinks slightly when she sees none.

It makes it hard for her to live like this. To know that there were bad people out there that could hurt people she  _cared_ about. Margaery’s man from the shadows had come back. And now she was off investigating _god knows what_. What makes it worse is that Sansa can’t do  _anything_ to help her.

She feels the bruises on her arms, the soreness in her muscles, but nothing weighs on her like Margaery does. For months without talking to each other, it tears into her heart to see Margaery  _helpless_.

Sansa learned the hard way growing up. She was helpless without realizing it. She never wanted a hero to save her. It was part of her life. Being thrusted into the hands of Petyr Baelish. His deceits and lies created hell in her life just so that she could survive in an industry she grew to hate.

She promised never to let someone make her feel controlled and weak ever again. Her voice is an inspiration to many. Sansa tries to speak out on issues that can  _actually_ help people. Or at least, she  _tries_ to help as many people as she can.

If she could be the hero Margaery was, that would mean the  _world_.

As she makes her way towards the subway, she’s so tired she doesn’t register the threatening presence around her. Sansa feels something loom in her heart but ignores it for the sake of her sanity.

Before she can process it, hands are covering her mouth and wrapping around her waist. She tries to kick and scream but they’re all muffled as she gets pulled into the darkness.

Her heart beats wildly inside of her and her mind is screaming with her body. She tries her best to fight back but there isn’t just one attacker.

A sharp pain shoots to the back of her head as it collides against the brick wall. In the alley, she can smell the poor scent of piss and trash. She tries to see her assailants in the limited light.

Someone croons that _it’s Alayne Stone all grown up_. It’s vile on their lips and Sansa feels her heart drop to her stomach. She stares as one man has her pinned up against the wall while the other practically salivates behind him. The look on his face shoots her back to memories she’s tried to forget.

Thinking back to her training, Sansa brings her knee up to the guy that has her pinned against the wall. He doubles over, setting her free. She quickly clasps her hands together and brings them down on his back harshly.

The other one yells and grabs for her. She yanks her arm away with all of her strength but he manages to land a harsh punch against her jawbone that sends a ringing to her ears.

The ground meets her with another punch and for a second, Sansa is breathless. She feels a grab at her shoulder before she’s hauled up again. Her hand comes up and bats the arm away before she grabs at the guy’s wrist and uses her body weight to flip him to the ground.

He lets out a loud groan as he hands on the ground with a thud. It brings satisfaction to her ears.

Just as she tries to make her way out of the alley, she feels a harsh pull again. The first guy she kneed managed to get up again.

“Fucking bitch,” he hisses into her face as he uses his arm to pin her by her neck.

Sansa struggles to breath, clawing at his arm. He slaps her to get her to stop struggle. Sansa keeps trying. Her stomach sinks. She’s scared. He’s hurting her and she’s used all of her strength to fight them.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees the other one get up. “Are we going to do her or what?” he snaps with that disgusting look on his face.

Sansa’s eyes widen as she struggles to fight back. It’s no use. She feels her jacket being tugged open and hands roam her body. She wants to cry out but can’t. Her whole body trembles because her vision is going dark. She keeps screaming in her mind, hoping the sound could come out.

“Hey! _Get the fuck off of her_!” a voice yells through the alley. Sansa feels her heart elevate at the sound of Margaery’s voice.

The arm at Sansa’s throat slackens. She tries to catch her breath but the first thing she does is bring her foot up square towards the guy’s balls. He doubles over and the other one rushes towards the voice.

Sansa struggles to regain stability before she sees brown hair under the hazy light. The man going after her is easily grabbed by his neck and tossed aside.

“Fuck off, buddy, touch her again and I kill you with my  _laser vision_ ,” Margaery’s voice threatens as she gives him a clean kick. The guy is a bumbling, frightened mess and nods at the threat before stumbling to run away.

Margaery doesn’t greet Sansa but goes for the guy that’s moaning in pain at her feet. She picks him up with ease. “If I ever catch you again, you’re gonna  _pay_ ,” she threatens further. Sansa moves to say something but Margaery tosses him to the ground. “Get out of here.” He nods and fearfully runs off.

The silence looms through the alleyway as she stands there with Margaery suddenly next to her. It’s almost a relief to see the woman there. She can almost ignore how she felt moments ago. But she can’t. Even now, Margaery is  _still_ saving her.

Sansa doesn’t have the strength that Margaery does. She can’t throw guys around like ragdolls and act as if she’s invincible. She’s still going to be that helpless little girl.

Margaery sighs as she looks up at Sansa, “ _Shit_...are you crying?” she asks carefully as her fingerless gloved hands reach up to gently cup Sansa’s cheek.

For all the strength and superpower that Margaery has, Sansa still feels like glass in her hands. She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” she says trying to pull away. Her eyes start to sting. She looks up to keep the tears from falling. Margaery hates emotions. “Just something in my eyes.”

“Hey, hey,” Margaery insists pulling her back for their eyes to meet. Sansa curses as a tear slips. Margaery’s thumb brushes the tear away and grasp Sansa’s face with more security. “You’re okay, Sansa, you hear me? You’re  _okay_.”

Sansa feels her vision blur and she falls into Margaery’s arms. She buries her face in the crook of the shorter woman’s neck and cries. Thankful that she saved her. “You saved me,  _asshole_.”

Margaery laughs. “I can’t help it.”

Sansa laughs through her tears. Even though, Margaery smells of leather and whiskey, Sansa feels safe.


	2. AKA Shower

“You didn’t _have_ to walk me home you know?” Sansa says as she reaches in her purse for her keys.

Margaery doesn’t say anything. She just sniffles and brushes her nose with a shrug.

The door subtly hisses open. Margaery raises her eyebrows, unforgetting of Sansa’s new Fort Knox since she moved out. Sansa moves to enter her apartment when she realizes Margaery hasn’t moved.

Sansa leans against the ajar door. “Did you want to come in?” she asks with uncertainty in her voice. It’s been almost a week since she’s seen Margaery. She doesn’t want to pressure Margaery.

Margaery clears her throat and wipes her nose again. “Well...you do have the best whiskey.”

Sansa smirks at the remark. She’ll take that. She pushes the door open for Margaery to enter before she follows. She moves to hang up her jacket and scarf and then gets a whiff of the smell from the alley. She frowns and moves to her bedroom while Margaery stands there with her hands jammed into her pockets.

“I left the whiskey in the same place,” Sansa points out nonchalantly. She doesn’t want Margaery to know how heavy her heart still feels. There are still tremors that are evident in her hands. “I am just going to...change.”

Truth is, she wants to shower to get the dirt and grime off of her but Margaery is there. She’d rather spend time with Margaery.

Margaery nods but doesn’t move until Sansa is at her door.

Part of Sansa expects as she goes into her closet that Margaery will leave without another word. She does that now. Doesn’t speak much. Doesn’t express much. It makes her heart tighten and eyes burn once more. Her best friend. Her _everything_.

She throws her jacket and scarf into the hamper before unbuttoning her shirt. She practically rips it off before kicking off her shoes and unzips her skirt.

“I got you a glass.”

Sansa shrieks as she falls back into her closet. Her heart is pounding inside of her because she forgets that Margaery does that _slinking_ thing now. She sees Margaery set down a glass of whiskey on her nightstand before sitting down on her bed with her own glass.

“Sorry,” the private detective mutters into her glass.

Sansa breathes out slowly. It’s just _Margaery_. It’s not those men from the alley. She’s home and she’s safe.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Sansa says lowly as she turns around. Her whole body is warm.

It’s not new for Margaery to see her half naked but Sansa can’t imagine the last time she has. Her body is warm and Sansa knows her disposition. Her pale body is about to turn pink if she keeps thinking about Margaery’s eyes on her body.

Margaery clears her throat. “You can take a shower.”

Sansa looks over her shoulder as she puts on a robe to at least cover herself. “It can wait.”

This time Margaery sighs and sets her glass next to Sansa’s. She knows how Sansa feels right now. Even after all this time, Margaery _knows_ her. Sansa stares in confusion as Margaery slips off her jacket and scarf.

“Sansa…,” Margaery says softly as she approaches the show host slowly. It’s almost careful.

The air shifts and Sansa isn’t worried about the fact that she’s wearing significantly less clothes now. Her heart is beating quickly inside of her because for a second, Sansa recognizes that look on Margaery’s face. _Before_ Joffrey, Margaery’s brown eyes would shine with mirth. Her lips would curl into a smirk.

A hand falls on Sansa’s wrist. Margaery still holds her with the utmost care.

“Come on.” Margaery doesn’t look her in the eyes as she tugs her gently along to the bathroom. Sansa feels like her heart is about to burst from her chest.

“Margaery, we haven’t---” her words are cut short as Margaery lets go of her wrist to turn on the shower.

Margaery’s voice is rough as she returns, “Sansa, I know you want to shower. I’m not going anywhere. Stop worrying.”

Sansa bites her bottom lip. It brings her back to too many memories. She can see the look on Margaery’s face that the shorter woman is thinking the same thing.

“I can wait outside,” Margaery says sheepishly as she ducks her head. Her brown hair falling over her face.

When she starts to move, Sansa grabs onto Margaery’s wrist this time. She doesn’t think about it because her heart is racing. She cups Margaery’s soft cheeks with her hands and pulls her in for a kiss.

Part of her thinks they shouldn’t do this. Now isn’t the time. Margaery has been through hell and back. Sansa knows she has too many reservations of being with her. She’s even warned Sansa to stay away. How can she stay away when she worries constantly for Margaery? How can she stand by when all she wants to do is be _there_ for her?

Margaery doesn’t touch her. She’s scared to move. But her lips slide against Sansa’s gently. It’s coming back from memory. Their lips move against each other with ease.

“Sansa,” Margaery finally speaks as she pulls back for air. Sansa bends down to press their foreheads together. She holds fast to Margaery in case she runs away. “We _shouldn’t_ do this.” She sighs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sansa bites her lip and shakes her head. “You’re not going to hurt me.” She knows Margaery would never hurt her. With all the strength she has, anger, and frustration, Margaery still holds her carefully in her hands like a small bird.

“I _can’t_ …”

“Margaery... _please_ ,” Sansa insists. Her thumbs brush Margaery’s cheek bones slowly. She misses her so much. She’s scared of Margaery being out there on her own. There are so many more worries she wants to express to the super human.

Margaery’s hands find her waist. They’re hot through the flimsy fabric of her robe. Sansa hopes Margaery’s hands will untie her robe and take her but they don’t move. Margaery kisses her once more before whispering, “I can’t…”

Sansa tries not to think of her heart breaking inside of her. She knows why Margaery can’t. She knows why they can’t. Now isn’t the time. Not with Joffrey’s return. It hurts her to know she can’t do more for Margaery. It makes her feel worse that she just wants to be selfish.

“Then, _stay_ ,” Sansa asks carefully. She just wants to make sure that Margaery is safe. Even if it’s just for one night. She wants to know that Margaery will be safe. “Just tonight.”

Margaery sighs in defeat. “Shit...alright,” she resigns. “ _Just tonight_.”


	3. AKA The Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's before Joffrey Baratheon and there's after Joffrey Baratheon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story actually is going to kick off from. So this is the actual prologue and we're going to continue in Sansa's point of view of how everything sort of falls together and how they sort of work together moving forward. Bear in mind, it's been awhile since I've written something multichaptered, so some of these chapters may be short because I don't have the confidence to write them but there are specific details I like to focus on especially because I want to work on my character interactions. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

There’s before Joffrey Baratheon and there’s after Joffrey Baratheon. For anyone who knows him, they think of him as beautiful, charismatic, and charming even. For anyone who knows who he is really is, that’s a whole other story. 

Sansa knows him too well. She knew him _before_ he became a monster. Or maybe he was one all along and she was lucky enough to escape from his clutches. Not that it helped much. The industry was full of predators that knew how to manipulate her. The pond was far too large for a small fish like her to swim. At least now she was a big fish of her own. 

Funny thing is when you grow up, you become older, wiser, and maybe even stronger. 

Joffrey Baratheon grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. His alleged father mayor of New York and his mother a beautiful actress. He skipped casting calls because a simple word from mummy and the part was his. By all means, he wasn’t a great actor, but Sansa knew there was something off about him from the minute she met him. 

_ “He will help your reputation,” Petyr, her manager said to her once, as his hands fixes the skirt he handpicked for her. His hand lingers at her a waist as he smiles at her. “Smile at him a little. Flirt with him. You will win him over.” _

It makes her cringe to think how close she had gotten to Joffrey. He smiled at her and it made her heart warm. Of course that feeling didn’t last long. 

_ The slap comes almost as a surprise. At the same time it doesn’t, that’s why Sansa doesn’t flinch as slap hits her like lightning and she stills in her spot. She turns her head and tries to ignore the echoing sensation and taste of iron in her mouth.  _

_ “God, stupid girl, why do you have to say such stupid things?” Joffrey spat angrily.  _

_ And as quickly as his temper flared, it pacified with his boyish looks and saddened apologies.  _

From then, Sansa knew at a young age that she had made a mistake. What she thought was her dream had turned into a nightmare. The starry industry that she had been attracted to was the sun that burned her alive. And who was to say that she was the only one? She wasn’t _that_ naive. The abuse and assault didn’t stop at her and she refused to believe that. 

At a point, she thought she realized it too late. She almost forgot her worth in the world, but it was only for a brief moment. And who would’ve known that the person that brought her strength, the strongest person she’d ever meet, would be hurt so badly?

“Do you want the light on or off?” the question is simple but her tone is curt. 

Sansa gnaws at her lip as she pulls back the comforter on her bed. Despite the brevity Margaery speaks to her with nowadays, there’s something that warms her heart having the brunette there with her. Some sense of safety.

Not to mention, Margaery remembers which side of the bed is hers.

“Off is fine,” Sansa murmurs as she slips under the covers. 

There’s a small sigh from Margaery as she sits with her back away from Sansa. For a second, it makes Sansa want to say something reassuring to her. Remind her that her apartment is safe and Joffrey doesn’t know that she’s there. That either of them are there. 

There’s a scratch against the ground, followed by a low thump. Margaery’s boots. 

Sansa sighs as she sinks into the bed and stares at the ceiling. If she could count the swirls in the ceiling, she’d count one for every day that Margaery disappeared. And even more, for the days that she knew Margaery was out in New York on her own. The city was a vast ocean that people could easily drown in, but Sansa could only ever care about Margaery. 

The bed dips next to her, but she keeps her eyes glued to the ceiling as the room plunges into darkness. 

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as she listens to the sound Margaery’s soft breaths next to her. It feels uncomfortable for her, to lay there without looking over at the woman next to her. After hours, days, weeks, months, Margaery is finally in her space for more than brief minutes and it feels like the ocean has parted them for leagues. 

Sansa shifts to try and get comfortable and Margaery stills completely.

“Sorry…,” Sansa mutters. 

She can hear Margaery swallow and she looks over. In the city light, she can make out Margaery’s profile. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Margaery suddenly says. It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than Sansa. 

The talk show host stares just a bit for Margaery to continue. When she doesn’t, Sansa doesn’t know where to pick up. There are too many questions that she has, but she doesn’t know where to begin.

There’s only one thing on her mind though because Margaery’s been gone too long. 

“Margaery,” Sansa begins. Margaery turns her head to her. “Hold me.” The good thing is that when Sansa doesn’t ask for something from Margaery, when she insists, Margaery is more than willing to comply. 

Luckily for Margaery, Sansa would _never_ ask her to do anything she wouldn’t want to do. 

The movement is stiff and unpracticed. Margaery turns on her side carefully and moves closer to the middle of the bed, where Sansa meets her. They face one another and Sansa instinctively curls towards the smaller woman’s chest as Margaery slides an arm under her neck and the other around her waist. It takes a moment before Margaery remembers that if she breathes, Sansa won’t break. 

Sansa revels in the warmth that Margaery exudes. It’s reminiscent of the times before Joffrey Baratheon, where she could feel completely lost in Margaery’s touch as if nothing else existed. She buries her face in Margaery’s chest to bite back the anger. 

She’d spent years getting through to Margaery. She’d spent years forging a real friendship-- _relationship_ \-- _ **whatever** they were_ \--with Margaery. In six months, Joffrey undid all of that. The worst part is that Sansa should’ve known. She should’ve known that Joffrey hadn’t changed.

Somehow, for a boy with everything he could ever want, Joffrey Baratheon had grown up wanting something that no man could ever achieve as long as Sansa was breathing: complete and total control. 


	4. AKA Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery isn't a superhero, which really sucks

Sansa opens her eyes to the bright spring sunlight. Her eyes try to readjust to the intensity of the sun, but she feels a warm hand slip into hers that attracts her attention from the burn. 

It’s much easier under the wide brim hat that settles on her head. The dots subside and the image forms before her. 

A crooked smile and warm brown eyes meet hers.

“Come on, then! I didn’t set this up for nothing,” Margaery cheerfully says as she pulls Sansa down towards the small picnic blanket she’s got set up. 

Sansa stares in confusion for a moment, but smiles as Margaery smiles at her. How she’s missed that smile. 

“What’s the occasion?” Sansa asks as she settles on the blanket next to Margaery.

Margaery pops open a bottle of champagne and pours a glass for her. “Do I need an occasion to drink with you?”

“I suppose not.” Sansa notes as she takes the champagne flute curiously from the brunette. The bubbly tastes sweeter than Sansa expects and she looks into the glass. Margaery doesn’t drink _champagne_ anymore. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The look on Margaery’s face is full of concern. The gentle way she stares at Sansa is something she hasn’t seen in so long. Her stomach lurches at the sight because something feels off. She stares at the champagne in her glass. The bubbles rise to the top and pop, singularly and methodically. 

She blinks into the glass before look up at Margaery through a sudden haze that fills her view. “Mar--”

“Sansa?” Margaery’s voice calls out to her. “ _Sansa_?” It falls in echoes as Sansa struggles to keep her eyes open. 

There’s a loud crackle as the electricity makes contact through the old filaments. The light shines from directly above her head. 

Sansa jerks to life and feels the restraints on her wrists. She looks at her wrists, bound by leather against an uncomfortable wooden chair. She fights against the binds and feels her ankles bound as well. 

“ _Help_!” she screams into the void. 

“Come on now, _Alayne_ ,” the voice sends shivers down her spine. She recognizes it faster than her blood running cold. 

A figure steps into the light and Sansa chokes back a sob of relief. Margaery stands before her. This was _correct_. Margaery looks disheveled, her hair glistens with a bit of grease, her expression tired underneath the wall she’s created. 

“You and I know, your _savior_ isn’t here,” Joffrey’s sinister voice fills the air. 

Sansa stares directly at Margaery, who stands still before her. Her stomach wrenches. Her eyes plead to the brunette. 

Joffrey steps under the light behind Margaery, who finally reacts. She turns to him, affectionately slipping an arm around his shoulder. Sansa fights against the binds again, knowing that it wasn’t Margaery’s choice. She has to get out. To stop Joffrey. 

The blonde man turns to her with a dark smile. It’s triumphant and it makes Sansa’s heart sink. He turns his head to Margaery before whispering something in her ear. 

Margaery nods once before stepping towards Sansa. 

“Margaery, please, you’re stronger than he is,” Sansa pleads futilely. The look in Margaery’s eyes is dark. They’re completely black as she stares at Sansa’ expressionless. “You know me. You have me. _Please_ , listen!” Margaery tilts her head. “Margaery, he doesn’t control you! He doesn’t own you!” Sansa feels the airflow stop. Her eyes widen as Margaery’s cheek twitches, the grasp around her neck tightening. The air in her lungs abandoning her. The only thing she sees is Margaery in a body that isn’t hers. 

Sansa’s lungs fill with air as she gasps back to life. She struggles to catch her breath as she pushes the comforter down to cool her body. 

A presence in her bed suddenly catches her attention and she looks over quickly at the warm spot in her bed. 

Margaery is sitting up against the headboard as if she hadn’t fallen asleep. She tilts her head and allows Sansa to say something. 

“Nightmare,” Sansa answers Margaery’s wordless question as she moves to lean back against her headboard. “I’m sorry.” She sits awkwardly next to the other woman, wondering if it was okay to make contact once more. 

“I’m here,” Margaery says as she slips her hand over Sansa’s. Sansa stares at Margaery’s hand over hers, before leaning her head on the shorter girl’s shoulder. 

Sansa shuts her eyes to make sure the images from her nightmare are gone. She controls her breathing, reminding herself that they were figments. Margaery would never hurt her. Margaery would never let Joffrey hurt her. 

“Are you sure it’s him?” Sansa has to know. 

“Who else would it be?” The anger is present in her voice. The anger that Sansa knows Margaery carries for what Joffrey could and what she’s done under his control. “He took Elinor, my own flesh and blood and had her commit suicide before me. This is personal. He wants me to pay for hurting him.”

Sansa laces their fingers. “How can we stop him?”

“Sansa--”

“No,” Sansa interrupts, “I refuse to let you do this on your own anymore. You can’t swan in and out of my life anymore and act as if what you do means nothing to me. You can’t keep saving my life without expecting me to do the same for you.”

Margaery huffs next to her. “I can’t let you, Sansa. I don’t want to come home and find you strangled by---”

“You can’t even _afford_ anything in your apartment that could strangle me at this point,” Sansa snidely remarks. The private investigator pulls back aghast that Sansa would dare say that. She raises her eyebrows at the woman, daring to be corrected. 

Margaery shakes her head. 

“Margaery, you’re not alone,” Sansa insists as she tightens her grasp on Margaery’s hand. “I can help you.”

“ _How_?”

It hurts Sansa to hear Margaery sound defeated. Margaery never sounds defeated. “I don’t know, but we can figure it out.”

“I won’t let you risk your life for me.”

“It’s my life and I get to decide,” Sansa declares. She didn’t learn how to fight without being able to protect the ones she loves. “You’re my---” _what is Margaery?_ “--Margaery, I will always be here for you.” She knows what Margaery is going to say. She could always anticipate Margaery. “Margaery, you are special. You have powers that people wish they had. You might feel powerless on your own, but you have to listen to me because you’re far from it. You’re the strongest person I know. Body and soul. You wanted to save lives. You can save lives. You broke away from Joffrey once and you can keep doing it until he’s gone.”

Margaery scoffs in disbelief. She squeezes Sansa’s hand gently. “I’m not a hero, Sansa, I never wanted to be one.”

Sansa sighs. Margaery is _her_ hero. No matter what. She buries her head into Margaery neck. “You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if my writing is confusing; i dont often like to italicise like dream sequences and stuff because its all suppose to be in one flow in my opinion im always down for constructive criticism!  
> thanks for reading!


	5. AKA The funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa doesn't know how to help Margaery. Loras is back in town. And oh yeah, Margaery is an asshole

Of course, the next morning when Sansa wakes up, it’s due to Margaery’s clumsiness in trying to sneak out. 

There’s a low hiss that comes from Margaery as her hand accidentally hits the nightstand. Her attention shoots to Sansa. “Shit,” she growls just loud enough for Sansa to hear.

The red head laughs at Margaery’s antics. “You were never good at sneaking out,” Sansa says as she moves to get out of bed. 

“I’m _excellent_ at it,” Margaery grumbles as she drops her boots back on the ground with a thud instead. She sits back down on the bed to put them on properly.

Sansa rolls her eyes. When she makes it to the door, she turns back to the brown haired girl. “You were never good at sneaking out of _my bed_ ,” she cheekily reminds before going to the kitchen. “Stay for breakfast, I’ll make bacon.” She doesn’t need to wait for Margaery’s response because Margaery can never turn down greasy foods. After all, her caloric intake is much higher than the average person. 

They’re eating breakfast in relative silence. Margaery isn’t a morning person. She was never one, even before Joffrey. The late nights out partying and drinking kept her out as early as dawn.

So Sansa is surprised when Margaery bites a piece of bacon and softly says, “The funeral is today.”

She doesn’t need to ask. The invitation is still sitting on her coffee table in the living room. When Sansa glances at it, the invitation sits on top of the open envelope. Margaery would have opened it when she was changing last night. 

“Are you going to be there?” Sansa asks carefully. 

Margaery takes a drink of her OJ to prolong her answer. It frustrates Sansa a bit because she knows Margaery is just avoiding this. She’s avoiding anything that has to do with her family. With good reason, but not at a time like this. 

As much as Margaery wants to stay away from her family--that ones in New York at least--her cousin is dead because Joffrey wants to get back at her. 

“You should come,” Sansa tries to say nonchalantly. She gauges the private detective’s reaction but nothing comes. She stares expectantly for at least a response.

“I’ve got work,” Margaery brushes off as if she doesn’t care. She continues to stuff her face with eggs.

“Margaery…”

“A lot of cheating spouses to take care of. A lot of secret lawyer things to investigate.”

“Mar--”

“Undercover stuff, super important.”

At this, Sansa rolls her eyes. “Margaery.” She reaches out and pulls the plate away from Margaery. This gets her attention because now Sansa is faced with Margaery glaring at her for taking her food away. At least, that hasn’t changed. “You should go. You deserve to go.”

Margaery’s expression darkens. It’s a facade that Margaery puts on when she is upset. Elinor was her favorite cousin. They were practically sisters. Of course, she _deserved_ to go. “They haven’t heard from me or seen me in four years. As far as I know, I am still dead to them.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Sansa comforts. It was much more complicated than that. Complicated but fixable. 

“You’re right.” The agreement surprises Sansa. “They’re all expecting me to cash in my trust fund soon,” Margaery snidely adds as she pulls her plate back from Sansa to continue eating. Sansa _really_ should’ve expected that.

\--------------------

The skies are gray from the overcast and light drizzle. It is depressingly appropriate as Sansa stands under her umbrella, while people trickle in. 

The funeral is small but there are still a few reporters about. All of them wanting answers to why a Congressman’s daughter would want to kill herself. The mother is far too upset to answer and lets her husband speak on her behalf before sending their bodyguards to escort the reporters away. 

She glances around the cemetery, hoping to see Margaery’s face. That was hopeless. 

The priest says a few words before Elinor’s father speaks. His speech is wrought with confusion and agony. Nothing compares to the loss of a child for a parent. Elinor was a friend, a confidant, a lover to many people. They all lost her. Margaery lost her. The way her father speaks, Sansa wishes Margaery could be there to tell him that Elinor wasn’t unhappy. Elinor didn’t choose this. 

Her brother stands next to her with his jaw tight as he stares. He knows the truth. He had helped process Margaery’s case; he knows what Joffrey could do. He wishes he could do more but the case has been ruled and closed.

Elinor was more dignified than a suicide.

“Thank you for being here.”

Loras stands next to them looking sharp as ever. His eyes are brimmed with tears that threaten to fall. He doesn’t cry though. Maybe he’s cried enough. He, Margaery, and Elinor were thick as thieves growing up. 

“Of course,” Sansa says softly, wishing her words could mean more. 

“Have you seen her?” Loras asks. 

Sansa doesn’t answer, knowing that the truth would hurt him just as much as a lie would. 

“She should be here,” he goes on, sounding defeated and hurt. He was the only one that cared about Margaery after she was cast out. When Margaery returned from Joffrey’s control, Loras had tried to help. Sent her to therapy and gave her some money. “Elinor would have wanted her here.” Sansa nods in agreement. “Can you tell me something?” Loras finally looks at her. His eyes flit to Robb briefly, before he stares right at her. “Is Margaery _safe_?”

Sansa opens her mouth, before shutting it. She doesn’t even know for sure. 

Loras rubs his face, almost in frustration. He ruffles his hair slightly before reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a small card for Sansa. “I will be in town for Renly’s campaign for the next week. Tell her to call me, I am worried.”

Sansa can see that Loras is beyond worried. He looks almost scared. As if he’s at his wits end. “Is something wrong?” 

Loras glances at Robb, who pretends he isn’t listening, before lowering his voice. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but Joffrey is back.” Sansa’s eyes widen. Margaery was right. “I don’t know where he is staying at the moment, but if what he did to Margaery is true, I want her safe.”

\--------------------

It’s upsetting to hold onto Loras’ card without actually knowing if Margaery will turn up. The private detective says that she’s investigating. It is understandable that she’d be busy; Sansa has her own full time job as well. This was different. It was pertinent. 

Joffrey is back. Her brother knows about Joffrey. Even if Loras didn’t believe it at first, something must have happened because Loras looked too shaken up. Did Joffrey threaten Loras? Was Loras in danger?

**Sansa [2:16pm]** : the funeral was...a funeral. You were thought of.

**Sansa [2:16pm]** : contact me soon? Loras is in town and wants to talk to you

Sansa bites her tongue, wondering if she should mention what her brother had said. She does it anyways.

**Sansa [2:17pm]** : he knows Joffrey is back. He’s worried.

**Sansa [2:18pm]** : we both are. Remember what I said, we’re here for you.

Two days pass and Margaery still hasn’t returned her text.

Part of her thinks that Margaery will just ignore her text completely. Just let a whole week pass without letting Sansa know if she’s found anything. Worst of all, disregard her brother completely. There isn’t much that Sansa can do though. She can’t even be hurt by it anymore because Margaery is a different person. What Margaery has gone through is something that she can’t imagine. It’s not something they shared. But Sansa wants to be there for her. She wants to be there for Margaery the way she wished someone was for her. 

“Why are you looking so glum?” Sam asks as she exits the booth after a session of phone calls discussing relationships and communication. Ironic really. “You did a great job with the calls today. A lot of people were tweeting about how your advice was really helping them.”

Sansa raises her eyebrows as she sips her water. “I don’t look _that_ glum…” She shouldn’t have fixated on that fact.

Sam holds a smile for her regardless and pats the seat next to him. Sansa sits down and takes a look around his desk. For someone that takes care of her calls, recordings, and sound, he has papers shuffled about. Most of them notes of what she’s talked about for the day. Sometimes there’d be little notes on some new ideas. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not in particular?” She doesn’t know how she can begin to describe what’s been going on. 

“Does it have to do with your person?”

“My _person_?”

“You know who.” He wiggles his eyebrows a bit. 

Of course, Sam’s excellent memory. Or maybe it was because of Margaery’s stunning first impression. Sansa blushes at the memory because Margaery was a much different person all of those months ago. Still sarcastic and prickly, but more open with her _affections_ , at least for Sansa.

Sansa shakes her head with a low laugh. “It’s complicated.”

“Come on, she was at your apartment when I dropped off your talking points for the day. You’ve been upset about her for months and now she’s back?”

“She’s not back per se,” Sansa clarifies. She clutches the water bottle a bit more. “She’s in a complicated situation. We’re in a complicated situation.” 

“After a stellar cast today? You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you aren’t taking your own advice.”

This time she glowers. Fair. “It doesn’t help when one person doesn’t communicate in return. Besides, we’re not in a _relationship_. We are--”

“Complicated?”

“Yes.”

Sam shrugs, not sure how much more he can contribute to Sansa’s love life. Or lack thereof. There is no relationship. Margaery just needs to update Sansa more often than not about how her investigation is going. This is a matter of life and death. 

He reaches for his notepad under the printed timetables. “I’ve come up with some topics we might be able to delve into later this week? They’re a bit heavy and maybe controversial but you’ve always said you wanted to push the envelope a bit.”

Sansa takes the notepad and looks over his notes. She feels uplifted. She can talk about relationships and communication extremely well. As a former romantic, Sansa knows what it’s like to want the love that you’ve always imagined. As a current realist, Sansa knows what it’s like to be in a relationship that hurts. 

The whirl of ideas are broken when Sansa hears her phone chime.

**Margaery [10:12am]** : I’m an asshole.


End file.
